A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Rose steeled herself for a barrage of questions from Angelica about the wedding and what brought her back to campus so early, but her roommate was wrapped up in preparations for her lead role in Antigone the following weekend. It wasn't just the fact that she'd beaten out several upperclassmen for the part that had Angelica giddy with excitement. Her father's protégé, the mysterious Sebastian, was going to attend one of the performances.

At least, she told Rose, "He said he'd make a special effort to be here."

Rose knew that the man had made a "special effort" to be lots of places where Angelica was concerned, but she hadn't met him yet and didn't expect to that Saturday. For the sake of peace, she kept her mouth shut.

Angelica skipped luncheon Saturday to attend dress rehearsal. She was on pins and needles that morning as she tried on her toga and fidgeted with the straps on one of the sandals, which didn't seem to want to fasten.

"I look terrible, just terrible!" she cried, twisting and turning in her bureau mirror.

Rose knew what was required of her--to soothe her roommate's fragile ego by telling her how beautiful she was. But the events at Meg's reception left her feeling bitter and she wasn't in the mood. "You'd better hurry or you'll be late," she snapped.

Angelica turned slowly in her chair and gave Rose an icy look. "My word, are we testy this morning!"

A brisk knock at the door headed off what could have been a nasty confrontation. Vera and Charlotte, come to wish Angelica luck.

"Break a leg," Vera said, adding with a mischievous grin, "and I do mean that."

"That costume looks wonderful on you!" Charlotte offered the adoration that Rose wouldn't--and single-handedly restored Angelica's confidence.

"Thank you!" she gushed, and gave both women quick hugs. "I must take it off now--I can't risk getting it dirty before rehearsal. I'll be seeing all of you at the matinee?"

Charlotte avoided her eyes. "Well..."

"Actually, we'll only be attending the evening performance," Vera explained. "I have to study, and Charlotte." Here she paused. "Will be spending the afternoon with her new beau."

"Vera!" Charlotte exclaimed, her face reddening, as Rose and Angelica gaped at her.

Vera smiled, relishing the opportunity to gossip. "Oh, Charlotte, don't be so modest. They'd find out soon enough, anyway. He's a cadet at West Point," she told Rose and Angelica, who were hanging onto every word. "They met in Boston. Their fathers are friends."

"They won't be anymore once my father finds out," Charlotte mumbled.

"Why not?" Vera chided. "At least he knows he's from a good family."

"Who says he'll find out, anyway?" Angelica teased.

"Our lips are sealed," Rose added.

"Well, thank you, ladies. I wish I had as much faith as you do." Charlotte pulled her wrap tighter around her thin frame. "I'm sorry I can't be at the matinee, but I'm sure you won't miss me," she said to Angelica. "I have to get going. I want to surprise Arthur and meet him when he gets off the ferry."

They could only stare after her when she left.

"Well," Angelica said finally. "So that's what brought the color to her cheeks. Do you think she'll start eating like a normal person now?"

*****

The Geisels would only be arriving in time for the evening performance, but there was one person Angelica could count upon to attend both shows: Rose. She'd expected an argument from the Scotts when she told them she needed two weekends in a row off and instead was met with near-indifference.

Something was...not quite right in the household. Rose couldn't put a finger on why but it seemed that Mr. and Mrs. Scott were gradually growing more distant with each other; Victoria was retiring to her room earlier each evening, while William was spending more time at his office in New York. Cecilia, meanwhile, wasn't growing quickly enough to please Dr. Wells, and a series of colds kept her indoors all winter, making her appear even more frail than her brothers and sisters than usual. Bill stayed away, while the other children reacted by fighting with each other.

Rose wondered how they would react when she told them she planned to attend summer session.

She arrived at the theater early, and though the auditorium was filling quickly, was pleased to find an aisle seat close to the stage. As the curtain lifted on the royal palace of Oedipus and Angelica stepped onto the stage, Rose felt someone leaning over her.

"Excuse me," came a loud whisper at her shoulder. "Is that seat taken?"

Rose looked up, startled at the interruption, and her gaze was met by a pair of sensual gray eyes. The man nodded at the empty seat beside her.

"No," she responded, visibly caught off guard and not liking it one bit. The man stared back at her expectantly, and she realized he couldn't get past her unless she stood.

"So sorry," he apologized as he squeezed by. Rose detected what she thought was a slight British accent. She mumbled an acknowledgment of his apology, and turned her attention back to the stage.

Five whole minutes went by before he distracted her again. "Louder," he said softly, addressing the young woman playing the role of Antigone's sister, Ismene. The comment was clearly intended for his ears only, but Rose heard.

Shortly thereafter, when a member of the chorus mispronounced a name, the man quietly berated her. This time, Rose wasn't the only one to overhear. A stately couple in the row in front of them turned around and cast withering looks in his direction. He apologized...then when Ismene took the stage again, he once again pointed out how soft-spoken she was.

"She needs to project," he protested when the woman seated to his left glared at him.

"She's my daughter," the woman responded haughtily, "and I think she sounds just fine."

"Maybe to you, but I'll bet the back row can't understand a word she's saying."

This time, a number of patrons shushed him, and the man was quiet--for a few minutes at least. When Angelica began her closing soliloquy he leaned forward and said, "Turn this way."

Angelica was facing slightly stage right, so that her back was turned to their section of the audience. "This way," the man repeated.

"Will you please be quiet!" demanded Ismene's mother. Another chorus of "Shh!" summoned an usherette, who threatened to have the unruly man removed if he couldn't keep his remarks to himself.

He obliged and remained silent until the final curtain, when he stood and applauded politely along with the rest of the audience, until Angelica took her bow. He began to clap louder, and shouted, "Bravo!" with healthy enthusiasm, drawing more dirty looks, but this time no one said a word.

Rose saw Angelica glance in her direction and waved. Her roommate smiled. She looked positively radiant.

As the crowd began to filter out of the theater, the man beside Rose said, "Sorry if I disturbed you. I get a bit carried away at times."

"A lot carried away, I'd say," Rose grumbled. "I missed most of my roommate's big speech because of you."

"Your roommate was Antigone?" His tone displayed more than mild curiosity.

"Yes." Rose turned to leave, anxious to put some distance between them.

He followed her down the aisle toward the stage, where she planned to greet Angelica on her way out of the dressing room. "She's extremely talented. Would you mind terribly if I asked for an introduction?"

She spun on her heels and examined him in the glare of the theater lights for the first time. He was tall, over six feet, with wavy light brown hair over a lean, sculpted face. If his eyes were stunning in the darkness, they were incredibly powerful now. A thin mustache rested above a mouth full of even teeth.

He's laughing at me, Rose thought, and flushed.

Best to go on the offensive. "Why should I introduce you? You were very rude during her performance."

The smile broadened. "A loyal and protective friend, I see. Again, I apologize. I was only joking. What I was really hoping was for you to accompany me to a professional play next weekend."

Rose gasped.

"You're here!" Angelica suddenly barreled past her and threw her arms around the gentleman, ignoring the disapproving stares from onlookers. "Rose," she said excitedly, "this is Sebastian Garrett. He came all the way from New York to see me perform. Sebastian, Rose Dawson."

"Pleased to meet you, Rose," he said, reaching for her hand, and as he brought it to his lips she realized whom her roommate had really been smiling at from the stage.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Stories